


Fixer Upper

by cellard00rs



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), In Control with Kelsey (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, mentions of various buzzfeeders, mermaid!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Kelsey inherits a cottage on Siren's Call and tries to get her life together. Little does she know, there's more to this little east coast island than meets the eye...
Relationships: Kelsey Impicciche/Shane Madej
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Buzzfeed: Sweet & Saucy Summer





	Fixer Upper

A fixer upper.

That’s what the realtor said.

The small white cottage is more like a doll’s house, one abandoned and hanging under the weight of its neglect. It has a tiny bedroom and a tiny bathroom. The kitchen and living room occupy the largest space in the home. All have creaky wooden floorboards; all have walls in need of paint. The electricity and plumping are good, the bones of the building fair, but it needs work. A lot of work.

A fixer upper.

Kelsey Impicciche stands in front of it, her hands resting on the small of her back as she takes it all in. It rests not far back from the sandy shoreline – its major selling feature. Few homes are unoccupied on Siren’s Call, but then few people _live_ on Siren’s Call. The island itself is as minute as the cottage before her. The population well below a thousand people.

So despite its fixer upper status, that makes it…perfect.

One of her hands rise, rubs hard at a spot above her heart. It’s too late anyway. She’s made her choice. This is the right thing to do. No Los Angeles. No internet. No one and nobody but herself. It’s all for the best, really. Drawing in a shuddering breath and nodding to herself, she mounts the squeaky stairs of the porch and goes inside, the front door hinges whining behind her.

+

For a fleeting time, Kelsey wanted to be a lawyer.

Then she wanted to be an actress.

She wanted to be a lot of things.

Like an anxious bee hovering from flower to flower, Kelsey tried to find her sweet spot, the center of who she was, who she would be. For a while, it seemed like that would be for an internet company called Buzzfeed. Bee, buzz…funny. But no, nothing stuck. Maybe in another life she would have been successful there. In another life, her videos would have drawn in views and she would’ve stood out.

Instead, she’d been lost in a sea of other gamer girls, adrift and unwatched and…unwanted. Or at least that’s how it felt. And then – like something out of a novel, her world opened up in the strangest of ways. A relative she’d never even met died. Died and left her…this. The rundown cottage on Siren’s Call.

As to why, neither she nor her parents knew. But the will very specifically stated her and very specifically stated this place. God provides. Something she’d heard often enough growing up in Catholic school and now seeming to become full blown reality because, hey, it’s not like she had a lot else going for her.

So she’d taken the leap and the unexpected lifeline and moved here. Moved into a ramshackle fixer upper that at least provides shelter while she figures out the rest. She can write. That’d been one of her many dreams – being a writer.

There was that – there was fixing this place up and turning it over for a profit. These were ideas, possibilities. Something she’d lost in Los Angeles. Something, perhaps, she’d lost long before that. Kelsey has a nice enough nest egg built up. For now it covers the cost of utilities, of food, and other comforts while she works on these two potential outcomes.

Sell a story or sell a fixed up cottage or both. It’s _something_ , which – in so many ways – is far, far better than nothing. Currently Kelsey sits with her laptop at the ramshackle table she purchased from a local thrift store and stares. Stares and stares at the blinking cursor. Her fingers hover over the keys and wait. Wait and wait.

 _Come on, come on_ …her thoughts whisper.

But nothing seems forth coming. No words, no ideas, no characters, or plots. Just…blankness. Blank as the screen she stares at. Growling, she closes her laptop with a snap and looks around. She could clean. She _should_ clean. Going to the sink she clicks on the faucet. It gurgles and spits, dislodging brackish water for several seconds before running clean.

Digging out a bucket and sponge she gets to work, bathing the walls, the floors. It’s sweaty, back breaking work, but it’s mindless and she prefers that. She wishes she’d purchased a dog. A dog would cheer this place up considerably. Kelsey considered it at one point, but with the little success she’d had in Los Angeles, it was a pass.

…in another life…

She thinks that over again and again as she cleans, as day turns over into night, the only light available the cheap lamp she got from the same thrift store. By the end, her hands are red, chapped. Her spine aches and her blue eyes are watery. Tossing the sponge to one side it’s as if she’s tossing in the towel both literally and metaphorically.

Clicking off the weak light of the lamp, she trudges into her meek bedroom and crawls between threadbare sheets, the mattress and box spring squeaking even under her minimal weight. Another life…a better life…

The idea circles around her mind again and again as she drifts off into a restless sleep.

+

A song…

Such a beautiful song…

Kelsey has never heard its’ like before. This song that speaks to the very heart of her. It buoys, lifting her, making her feel as if she’s flying, as if she’s truly living. She can’t deny the song and what a dream this is.

This dream where she rises from her bed and leaves the safety of the cottage behind. This song that drives her down to the sandy beach and close to the shore, cold water lapping at her bare toes…

But then the song…changes.

It stops midstream, stops drawing her into the water and instead makes her…stop. Stop right at the very water’s edge even though, moments before, it’d been urging her in. Urging her into the dark waves. The tune alters, becomes a new tune – still jaunty and sweet, but now it urges her back to her bed, back to her home and _home_ …the cottage is her _home_.

It feels more like her home than it ever has before, as the song wraps around her, lyrics soothing her. In the dream, Kelsey climbs back into bed and her sleep is better now, warmer, more comforting. Then, the next thing she knows, she’s lost to the sheer, simple ease of dreamlessness.

+

The next morning, Kelsey wakes up to sandy feet.

A light layer dusts her soles and she swipes at them, confused, eyebrows knitting together. Her dreams from the other night are hazy and unfocused. She vaguely remembers music, but little else. Did she…sleepwalk? No, she couldn’t have. The floor of the cottage must be dirtier than she thought. Even with her rigorous cleaning spree yesterday, she must have missed something. She is near the beach, after all – so easy to track sand in.

True, her feet are crusted in a way that would indicate she took a good, leisurely stroll, but still – it has to be that. Besides, she feels…good today. Better. Hell, she hasn’t felt like this in months. Her smile comes easy now and wow, she forgot how much she loves to smile. How much she loves to feel like she feels right now. Positive. Bouncy. Full of cheer. So much so that when she sits at her laptop this time, some words come.

They’re not great – not by any means. But they at least have potential. Some writing is better than no writing, isn’t it? It’s certainly an improvement over yesterday and looking around the cottage now, she realizes all her work was worth it. She may have been under a dark cloud, but now the walls seem to have a bit of sparkle to them. Some life.

A color would help. What color? Green? Blue?

…but then, she probably shouldn’t choose anything too obtrusive.

Especially if she does decide to flip the place and sell it.

The thought pulls on her, drags her to a halt, making some of the levity dissipate. That’s right. She’s been thinking of selling the cottage or selling her work. Thinking of finding out who she is and what she wants to do with her life.

It’s not like it’s something she can really outrun. Everyone has to do _something_ , has to _be_ something, has to have a purpose, and make a living and she winces at the thought. Who does she _want_ to be in this life? What does she want out of it?

 _Happiness_ , Kelsey thinks, _I want to be happy_.

It feels like the wrong answer, the answer of a selfish child. Too simplistic, too unrealistic, and just as the dark cloud begins to rear its ugly head, she hears a sound. It’s like a knock…but not quite. More like someone – or something – is moving around outside. Cautiously, Kelsey rises from her spot at the table, laptop still open as she goes to one of the windows near the front door.

She has fraying curtains, but they’re thick enough to offer some protection as she tips the edge of one aside, peeking out. Catching sight of a knobby elbow, her thoughts that it’s a someone (which, of course, makes far more sense than a some _thing_ ) are confirmed. She lowers the curtain and goes to her purse, drawing out her mace – an overreaction, perhaps, but she doesn’t know anyone on the island and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

She tucks the mace into the back pocket of her jean shorts before easing the door open. The knobby elbow belongs to a man and not just any man. When she catches her first full view of him her first thought is: _tall_. Because he is. He’s well over six feet and lanky to a fault, with floppy brown hair, some stubble, and a very angular face – not necessarily handsome; but arresting.

Attractive in the most peculiar way, abstract and specific to a person’s particular taste. Turns out she has that taste, because to her, he’s pretty cute. More so when his eyes crinkle in the corners and he offers a ‘gee-shucks’ kind of grin, hands held aloft in surrender, “Whoa! Hey, sorry if I spooked ya!”

She doesn’t say a word and wonders what exactly her expression is if he thinks she was spooked (which, well, she kind of had been – at least until she saw him and heard him speak) he continues, “I’m Madej. Shane,” he adds the last as if his first name is an afterthought, “Shane Madej. I’m your neighbor.”

Kelsey automatically starts looking from side to side because ‘neighbor’ seems like the wrong word. She’s surrounded by empty beach, brush, and trees – not another residence for miles and while she recognizes her reaction borders on rude, it can’t be helped.

Shane doesn’t appear insulted, merely clarifying, “Well, not neighbor in the traditional sense, I suppose. Certainly not in the city one. Siren’s Call is pretty damn spread out. So, I guess when I say ‘neighbor’ I mean more like, I live on the island.”

Kelsey accepts this and draws back to rest against her front door. He eases only slightly closer, clearly respecting her boundaries but obviously wanting to have a proper face to face conversation. Although his face is far above hers, so she has to look up to make eye contact. His eyes are hazel and kind, the whole look of them like a sleepy sloth and it’s hard not to feel easy around him, to relax and offer a little smile, “I’m Kelsey. Impicciche.”

The fact her last name came out as an afterthought isn’t lost on her. Apparently, he’s the kind of person who rubs off on people – even when you’ve only known them a few scant moments. His lips tip up in another smile and she ignores how her heart flutters a little at the sight. Shane offers something of a stilted bow, “Nice to meet you.”

“Same.” she returns because damned if it isn’t true.

He clears his throat, “So, uh, you were probably wondering why I was lurking around like a creep.”

“A little bit,” it comes out half deadpan, half cheerfully amused and his laugh at that is more of a wheeze, ”Uh, well, I wasn’t sure if anyone was home, but I was worried about knocking – I don’t know, I’m not great at this introduction thing. More so when I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

“Yeah, see,” he licks his lips and looks adorably sheepish, “I’ve been eyeing this place for a while. One of the only unoccupied places on the whole island, y’know? And I’ve watched it sort of fall into disarray and really wanted to see it picked up by its bootstraps. Think it could be a really neat little cottage with a good coat of paint, some work to the roof, the landscape…could be a nifty spot with some elbow grease.”

Kelsey’s eyebrows knit together. Is he part of some homeowners’ association? She wasn’t aware this plot of land had one and she kind of hope it doesn’t when he seems to catch on to her worry, “What I’m doing a bad job of asking is, can I fix it up?”

She blinks dumbly at that, because that’s kind of the last thing she expected. It causes her to blurt out, “I don’t have much money.”

 _Great Kelsey_ , her thoughts hiss, _talk to the stranger about money and your lack of it. Great way to make friends._

Again, Shane merely rolls with the punches, “You wouldn’t have to pay me. This is more of a passion project. Just an islander wanting their island to be the best it can be.”

Once more, Kelsey’s not sure what her expression says, but it must be something that speaks to alarm, because he adds, “I wouldn’t come inside. Or bother you. I can do all the work outside,” he shrugs, “Just being neighborly.”

The last comes out a bit weakly, as if he’s aware of how silly and weird this whole situation is. And while it _is_ kind of silly and weird, Kelsey finds herself saying, “Yeah. Okay.”

And when Shane perks up, when he offers her a full blown smile and his face lights up, she knows she’s made the right decision.

+

Days slip into weeks and somehow Kelsey finds her work coming along.

The story she’d been struggling to write begins to grow, words building up and flowing over one another like the waves outside her front door. She’s not certain what changed. What made it possible for her to start creating and do so, so effortlessly, but she finds herself…content with it. Pleased even. And as smoothly as the story moves along, so too, does the outside of her cottage.

Every day Shane comes and every day he works. At first, she hears his sounds in muted fashion. Her closed windows drowning out the noise of the various tools he uses to fix the place up. When he clambers onto the roof, it’s a little harder to ignore – thuds and bumps inevitable but also, she starts picking up something else…something musical.

One day, stuck on a plot thread and some dialogue, she tosses one of the windows open for a little fresh air. The temperature is moderate, a nice breeze blowing through as well as some surprisingly catchy humming. Shane is humming as he works. The sound is deep, enchanting, and oddly familiar. She finds herself bobbing her head along with it.

How someone can merely hum yet be so mesmerizingly musical, Kelsey has no idea, but Shane is managing it. So much so that even she finds herself humming along as she returns to her laptop and begins again, motivated to create more and create well. In fact, she finds herself losing track of time and nearly jumps out of her seat when a neat knock hits her front door.

Looking outside, she sees the sky has taken on a deeper shade of orange, signaling a setting sun. She rises and walks to the door to see Shane there. Physically he’s sweaty and worn, but there’s an energy about him, eyes lively and that smile that always seems to spark her own on his face, “Hey.”

“Hi,” she returns softly and then, seeming to remember her manners, offers, “Um, you’re…you’re doing some really good work out there.”

“Yeah?”

A nod, “I know we haven’t, ah, talked much since you started – but I’ve-I’ve seen the progress and its really…really looking good.”

And it is. The worn, chipped paneling is clean and glowing stately white. The porch has been resealed and gleams with a cherry wood finish. The steps no longer squeal when she steps on them and while she can’t see the roof, she knows it’s been patched and repaired. The front ‘yard’, as it were, has new clumps of marram grass and the sand itself seems cleaner somehow – whiter and more golden then its initial dusty grey.

“At your service,” he returns, tipping his head and she can’t help but chuckle at the gesture. What little they’ve interacted with each other; she’s always found his mannerisms so…old-world gentlemanly. Like he’s from another, nicer era. Maybe it’s just the way the islanders are, she’s not sure, and as if reading her thoughts he says, “So, ah – not trying to be rude or anything, but I – ah – notice you don’t go out much.”

Kelsey just shrugs, “I mean…I don’t really know anybody.”

“No friends? Family?”

She shakes her head, “No. Not here.”

“I see,” he says it, but it’s clear he doesn’t, and she feels the need to explain, “One of my relatives left me this place. I…had nowhere to go really, so I decided to come here. Crazy, I know.”

“Not that crazy,” he mutters and there’s an unusual bitterness to it, one so unlike him she wonders if she didn’t even imagine it. Begins to believe she did, when he quickly changes track, sounding more like himself as he returns with a bright, “But then I like crazy. Crazy’s cool.”

That sparks another laugh, “Is it?”

“You betcha! Some of the best people I know are straight up nuts,” he looks her over thoughtfully, “I…,” he scratches behind one ear and appears kind of skittish then, nervous in the most endearing way, “I could introduce you.”

The way he says it – half question, half statement, makes her stand up straighter, blue eyes going wide. Is he-? Is he asking her out on a date? It’s been so long and she’s been so insulated (for the most part) that she’s not sure if she’s reading his signals correctly. Awkwardness blossoms between them for a few silent minutes and he’s the first one to brave the breach, “Down in town, I mean. The island has a town.”

“I know,” Kelsey finds herself answering on what breath she can manage because suddenly she feels breathless. Dizzy and…excited? “I’ve been there.”

“Oh?”

A wobble of her head, “The thrift store…”

“Sara’s place?”

Kelsey doesn’t know how to respond. Shane does, “Sara Rubin runs Something Special. Her and her wife, Annie Jeong. Funny story, Sara and I used to be a thing back about a million years ago. Worked well for a while, but then we sorta drifted apart – different interests, things like that. Totally amicable split – still best buds. She, me, and the sea…”

He dry laughs at his own odd joke and she does as well, because it seems like the thing to do to keep the still lingering awkwardness at bay. Although that particular feeling seems to be evaporating more and more, as his enthusiasm grows, “Come on, let me take you out for a night on the town! We can get some of the best, freshest seafood at Andrew, Steven and Adam’s joint – meet some other locals…bet you’d be a big fan of Zach’s.”

“Zach?”

“Zach Cieszynski. Yeah, he runs the arcade. Yes, yes,” he adds as if he sees a surprised (and super stoked) sparkle in her eye, “We have an arcade. Everybody adores Zach for it. His place is one of the most popular on Siren’s Call. Gives us all something else to do besides be beach bums.”

Kelsey feels her lips twitch, chews on them to stop it, as she swings from side to side because god…it all sounds so enticing and, sensing her caving, he goes in for the kill – all pleading hazel eyes and insufferably cute mien, “C’mon, Kelsey…come with me.”

There’s no way she can say no.

And honestly?

She doesn’t want to.

+

The date (if that indeed is what it is) goes very well.

The food at ‘Pick Your Hill to Dine On’, the restaurant Shane recommends is phenomenal. Succulent mussels in garlicky butter, fluffy fresh homemade pasta beneath and a sparkling glass of cool white wine. Kelsey can’t think of anything better, until, of course – they go to the arcade.

She’s not sure how Shane knew she was a gamer – maybe seeing her laptop and some of the few trinkets she did bring with her to her new home tipped him off (Pokémon coffee cup, Mario mushroom trinket attached to her cell phone, etc.) – but she appreciates it enough because _Zach’s arcade_!

It’s a home away from home. Containing all the charm of a long ago, 80s arcade with old school cabinets, the scent of cheap, greasy pizza, popcorn, and ridiculous bright blue carpet decorated with stars and spaceships alongside newer tech, like VR machines and console gaming tournaments, it makes Kelsey’s heart stand still.

They rack up a couple of tickets, reward themselves with cheap plastic toys and then walk along the boardwalk, chatting about this and that and everything in between. It turns out, alongside being a good repair man, Shane’s a big history aficionado – especially when it comes to Siren’s Call itself. He talks candidly about the island’s discovery, it’s initial settlement and how the population grew and changed over time.

The name of the place itself he seems a little less keen on. When she asks, he waves a hand this way and that, quickly running through the story of elusive creatures that patrol the waters, charming people on the surface to do their bidding or worse. Still, Kelsey can’t help but find herself starry eyed at the prospect, “So, mermaids?”

The sigh that leaves him seems overly hefty and pained for such a silly conversation, “Bullshit. There’s no such thing. Mermaids are fictional – right alongside ghosts and demons.”

Kelsey snorts, “Ghosts and demons? Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh? Mermaids are beautiful! I would think they’d fit in alongside unicorns and fairies…”

He looks as if he’s swallowed a whole lemon at that comment, voice bitter to go along with it, “People always forget their history – remember, mermaids start off leading people to their _deaths_ , okay? The first known case was a goddess accidentally murdering her lover and taking on a fish form in grief, which, gross overcorrection if I ever heard of one, but regardless; mermaids used to be stories to warn sailors to learn how to _sail_ better. Less drinking, more eyes on the road.”

“Or sea?” she grins but he doesn’t return it, his eyes casting out to the waters near them, “It wasn’t until later people started making it _romantic_. Paracelsus, Friedrich de la Motte, Hans Christian Andersen…those trio of idiots. Sure, their stories had their own horrific elements, but it was all basically about love and pretty ladies and less about _drowning_.”

The last is said with firm, grim authority. Not that Kelsey can blame him. Drowning would be a horrible way to die. Yet she’s still caught on the hook of the tale, “But is that what happened here to give the island its name? If it is, wouldn’t it be called Siren’s Drowning and not-?”

Another unhappy noise, another wince that seems too out of context for a purely fanciful discussion, “Sirens and mermaids…they’re different, y’know. People started lumping them in together, but in the beginning, Sirens were avian women, born of Greek myth not…”

Shane draws to a stop. He stops walking, stops talking and his eyes are completely fixated now. Fixated on the water and Kelsey stops beside him. She looks out too, look overs at the dark water and tries to see whatever it is that caught his attention – to see what he sees.

When next he speaks, he sounds…sad. So, so terribly sad, “It was whispered the two met. Siren and mermaid…the Mer, really, because gender doesn’t actually factor into it, not for them – that’s a…Human conception. They met and the Mer were dying out…so the sirens taught them to sing. To sing and to take back what was rightfully theirs…”

Kelsey looks at him and his face…it’s as if his very heart is breaking. She can’t help but reach for his arm. She touches it, her hand sliding down, fingers almost linking with his as he blinks and blinks, as if trying to wake himself up and it seems like it’s almost a physical effort for him to look away from the water and back to her, “Like I said, the name came from a story…some earlier settlers claimed they saw mermaids, heard songs and – thinking mermaids and sirens were the same, like a lot of people do – they named it.”

Her fingers still dance near his and his blinking suddenly stops, a gentle smile cresting his lips as he feels it, realizes it, and happily links their hands fully together, “Besides, Siren’s Call sounds catchy. Not too many visitors to a place called Siren’s Drowning. No, no - want people to come to your place, right? Trade goods, spend cash, take a vacay – whatever.”

Shane is himself again, lighthearted, and simple but still, Kelsey can’t help but give his hand a little soft squeeze before they start walking again – this time far away from the shore.

+

They part ways and Kelsey is still wondering if it was a date at all. Friends hold hands, don’t they? And there’d been no kiss. Not that she wanted a kiss…oh, hell – that was a straight up lie – still, there hadn’t been one, nor had there been a moment where it seemed as if one was appropriate. Shane was a total gentleman throughout. Walking her to her door, wishing her a goodnight, all in all a lovely evening. The best one she’s spent on the island thus far.

And as she goes to sleep, if her mind wanders over his story about mermaids and sirens and such, it’s only natural. Such a romantic ideal. Romantic and alluring and she can almost hear the songs. Imagine them and then they’re _there_. She hears the music. Hears the haunting, beautiful melody and she leaves her bed again.

Another dream, like the one she had her first night here. A dream of music rising from outside her door. She moves out into the dark night, leaving her cottage behind as a breeze rising from somewhere brushes over her skin and this is…a little different. The singer sounds like someone else…not the first voice she heard. This one is lower, raspier, but no less appealing.

It draws her along the sandy dunes and then another voice breaks in. This one recognizable, this one making her halt in her tracks. The second voice fills her stomach with butterflies, makes her feel shy and red-faced, and then there are hands cupping her cheeks and she realizes her vision is sort of clouded over…

She knows she’s outside; she saw the beach and the waters…but not much else and with the feel of the hands, something comes into view.

…no, _someone_.

Shane. Shane is in her dream. He’s holding her face in his hands and he’s…singing. And his singing is so, so lovely. A song for her soul, strumming every emotion with his words and the other voice keeps trying to break in, but Shane seems to override that voice, seems to silence it, even while he captures her attention and she’s…torn.

Kelsey wants to go to the water. But Kelsey wants to stay on the beach. Kelsey wants, she wants…

The hands grow more…solid. The dream feels…less so. Less dream, more reality, and Shane’s eyes…they’re so…they’re glowing. _Glowing_.

“….don’t, Kelsey…”

Words? Lyrics?

“…Kelsey…”

Is it both? And then, Shane lets out a sort of bashful hum and his head tips, his lips locking over hers. Kelsey’s vision zeroes in then. No longer dim, no longer hazy. It zeroes in on Shane and his mouth on hers, the taste of salt and sea and… _oh_.

Her heart leaps, beats, and twists, dances inside her as his hands move upwards, no longer cupping her face, long fingers instead tangling in her hair, twisting the blonde strands and her own hands, which before now had felt like dead weights, lock around him.

Their bodies brush and it feels like puzzle pieces clicking into place. More so when his tongue glides against her own, her mouth opening to allow him entrance, allow him to deepen the kiss. The music around them reaches a crescendo and she doesn’t know who’s singing anymore or if anyone is singing at all and it’s the best kiss she’s ever had in her life.

And then she falls.

+

Kelsey wakes up _on_ the beach.

The sun is a shiny golden disc, creeping into a lightening silver sky and she’s curled up in a fetal position on her left side, just wearing her sleep shorts and tank. She sits up, confused and sandy and beyond embarrassed. What is she doing here? She tugs messy, sticky strands out of her mouth and gets to her feet, dusting herself off as she walks to her cottage.

Jesus…did she sleepwalk? Possibly again – her mind retreating back to her first night here. It’s so hard to remember…had she been dreaming? She goes inside and retreats into the restroom, clicking on the shower. She strips, climbs behind the curtain, and starts rigorously cleaning herself, trying to get every last speck of sand and dirt off.

As the water pours over her, her mind becomes clearer. She _had_ been dreaming. Bits and pieces of it come to her now. There had been music, she thinks. And…oh my gosh! Her eyes grow dinner plate size and she covers her mouth with one hand, gasping aloud.

Shane! Shane had been in her dream! And she’d kissed him! It had been the kind of kiss every girl dreams of – fairytale princess, Disney-soundtracked and perfect and _uggh_! _So_ embarrassing!

The hand runs up from her mouth to cover her eyes as she grimaces. What a dream! The dream of a silly, romantic little girl and how is she supposed to face him today? She’s still not even sure if last night counted as a date or if they’re just really good friends and yes, yes – of course, they’re certainly friends.

He’s been coming here for weeks, working on her place and being kind and they’ve talked and honestly, he’s her first really true friend in a long time and here she is having these ridiculous fantasies! And the sleepwalking! That seems just as horribly humiliating.

…and a little worrisome. What if she’d walked into the water? No, that would have woken her up. Wouldn’t it? But then her hand lowers and she seems to remember…another voice in her dream. A darker one. One that had asked her to do just that…

Suddenly feeling cold, she clicks off the water and exits the shower, grabbing a fluffy towel and drying herself off. She dresses and makes her breakfast, her coffee, and settles at her laptop. She brings up her story and stares at it, unable to write a single word, too caught up in last night’s adventures.

A series of frantic knocks at her front door rouses her form her daydreaming and she answers it to see a harried Shane, “Can I come in?”

Her head jerks back a little at his tone, nonplussed by his whole air as she steps aside to allow him entrance. Normally when he stops by, he knocks, gives a cheery ‘hi ho’ to let her know he’s about to start working and that’s that. He’ll come by now and again to shoot the breeze, but otherwise keeps to himself. Yesterday had been a revelation and one she’d been happy to be a part of.

Spending more time with him had opened her up to the possibility that their interactions could be more. That they could move past acquaintances and friends to something…more personal. But regardless, everything that had passed between them had always been amicable. Laidback.

Shane is anything but now. He’s…jittery. Upset and anxious and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it until it sticks out at odd angles, “Are you okay?”

“Am I…?” the words barely come out, stuck in her throat as they are. It seems like such an odd question.

He looks behind himself, as if the door will open or someone will hear them, before he turns back to her and lowers his voice, “After last night.”

“Last night?” she puzzles over it and then returns a wary, “I…had a good time with you. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I, ah…” he messes with his hair again, as if he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Or with himself in general. Sensing his distress, she decides to ease his tension. Why not tell him a little bit about the dream? Not everything, of course, but enough to turn it around into some kind of a joke. This in mind, she lets out something akin to a laugh, “Well, I mean, I _did_ have this pretty funny dream...”

“A dream?” he looks startled, stunned, and she definitely wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction. What is going on? And then he looks…defeated. And angry. His hands clenching into fists at his sides, “Yeah, of course. _Fuck_.”

The curse is hissed and full of hatred and she steps back some, unsettled. He glances up at her apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t mean-” his eyes squeeze shut tightly and he pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a loud breath before lowering it and looking her in the eyes, “Look, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not mad at you. I’m…I’m mad at myself.”

Kelsey’s kneejerk response is to ask why but she stifles it. _Let him get this out_ , she thinks, _let him explain._

He walks away from her, walks in a tight circle, before going to her kitchen sink. A window rests above it and he eases the curtain back. Much like she did the first time she caught sight of him. He’s looking out at the water, seeming to see something, he nods to himself and turns, “Listen, can you-? Do-do you mind coming outside with me?”

Kelsey finds she wants to say ‘no’. Not because of his strange attitude or this bizarrely stilted conversation, but because of some other feeling entirely. It’s like when you know you’re going to receive bad news. It’s something you sense, down in the pit of your very being. She wants to say ‘no’ but hears herself say, “Yes.”

Shane gives a jerky nod and goes to the door, opens it for her and waves, ever the gentleman. She walks out and he shuts the door neatly behind her, sealing her fate. Whatever happens now, whatever he has to say or do…she’ll have to deal with the consequences. She feels edgy, picking at the cuffs of her unbuttoned shirt, messing with her tank top and bra straps, her jean shorts…fidgeting madly while she follows him.

They go down to the water’s edge and he holds up a hand, “Just…just wait here. Okay?”

Another nod. The lump in her throat makes words impossible anyway.

He walks out into the water. Fully clothed he just…walks out. The water encompasses him, soaks his jeans, his shirt and he just keeps walking. Past waist height, past his shoulders…right to the point where the water is all around his neck. He shifts and moves under the water and Kelsey can tell he’s removing his sodden clothing.

Her unease battles with embarrassment, because, I mean…he’s getting naked. He’s naked and…skinny dipping? And what the hell does this have to do with-?

And then all thought stops.

It ceases.

Everything she knows as real ceases because he plunges under the surface and when he emerges…

There are scales. Shimmering green and gold scales on the apples of his cheeks, his ears have changed shape – more akin to fins with similar coloring to his…

He lifts his legs – or what should have been his legs, but they’re not legs. Not at all. It’s a tail. Sinewy and beautiful. Gold, green, orange, brown scales…a rainbow of colors that make one think of autumn. Or his eyes. Shane’s eyes, which seem to glow now as he offers a sheepish smile. His voice comes out smoother, colored with an entrancing harmony, “About mermaids being bullshit? I…may’ve lied…”

Kelsey takes that in.

Then, licking her lips, she nods and turns, walking away.

+

Shane finds her in the cottage.

Kelsey sits at her table, cup of coffee long since cooled, laptop closed.

She didn’t say he could come in. but she also didn’t say he couldn’t. The door hadn’t been fully shut when he wandered back to the shore. He’d taken a quick detour to his car, pulled on some dry clothes. He always had extra pairs in the backseat. Just in case.

Just in case…

Any other time, it would have been funny. It wasn’t now. The main door isn’t closed, but the screen door is. He eases it back, comes in, and sits opposite her. She isn’t looking at him, blue eyes downcast. She looks like she did when he first saw her.

…when he first saw her…

Christ. He’s such an asshole. A true creep. He wants to explain. Hope she’ll let him. But since she’s had yet to speak and since he’s scared to start, he ends up just…well, being a dumbass, “This place could still use some work.”

She doesn’t reply.

He decides to clarify, “On the inside. Couple coats of paint. The floor, the windows…new sink, new oven…mean, I don’t know about the other two rooms, but they’re probably in need of an overhaul as well. If-if you’re thinking of doing so, I mean – you…you could leave it…”

Shane scratches at his chin, wishes he could do something – anything. Instead he hears a soft, almost inaudible, “…red…”

“Hmm?”

“I…” she sucks in a breath that trembles and oh god, if he makes her cry…

But she sounds stronger when she continues, “I was thinking of painting this room red. Like-like a strawberry blonde. Always…thought of dyeing my hair that color but…” she reaches for the coffee cup, plays with it, stares at it as if it’ll answer all her questions even as she shrugs, “…was afraid.”

“I like your hair,” comes his gentle reply, “You should paint this room like that. Yellow. A nice, happy color.”

Kelsey nods like she did before she left the shore and he wants to stab himself in the chest. He wants her to scream at him, to rage. Not this. This is worse. Finally she asks (sobs), “Why?”

She doesn’t need to ask more, doesn’t need to specify, “The relative who left you this place? He was a prick. Grade A asshole. Made a deal with one of _my_ relatives. One who, like him, happens to be an asshole. The deal was, my guy gives your guy a taste of the good life – you know, prosperity, women, riches galore. And your guy…he gives mine a,” he pauses here, trying to find a delicate way to put it, “tribute.”

“A sacrifice,” she mutters and he doesn’t return with a nod because they both know that’s the right word. The one he avoided. She breathes in deep, eyes closing, “It’s like you said, take back what’s rightfully yours.”

“Not mine,” he insists, tone vehement, “I didn’t-! I never wanted-!”

The look she nails him with now is lethal. Cold and unyielding. Deserved. And she just drives the point home, “You asked about last night.”

“It…” he feels like the worst heel, “I…wanted it to be a date.”

“Don’t,” it comes out sharp. Sharper than any slap could ever be. And he winces, because, yeah – that was badly done. He’s never thought of himself as this much of a dick, but then, does anyone who’s the bad guy ever really _know_ they’re the bad guy? Do they accept it?

Shane sighs, leans back in his seat, hands threading together and he looks down at them as they rest on his lap, “My guy…my relative – he felt it was my turn. It’s…tradition. For the Mer. At a certain age, you take your first offering from the land. From this island, in particular, hence the name. You can either make a human do something…less than pleasant or you can…”

He can’t continue. Doesn’t want to.

“I’ve never liked the idea of it. None of us, the younger set, do. We’ve rebelled and fought and tried to do something different with ourselves. Lots of us spend time on the land. Try to stick it out as humans. But the water…you can’t avoid it forever. It calls to you. It’s…”

He shifts where he sits and it’s clears it’s hard to put into words, “…it’s like if you held your breath for a long period of time. You can do it, but eventually, you _need_ to breathe. It’s…not a good analogy, but it’s the best I can offer – fact is, we all go back – at some point or another.”

Kelsey seems to accept that, so he goes on, “And there is this…resentment, that’s hard not to hold against humans. The things you do to one another, the things you do to the world – we talk a lot of shit about it, about you, and even living among you…”

Shane just stops, sits up, grunting as it’s clearly hard to articulate exactly what he wants to get across, “I decided maybe I’d give it a try. Get my family off my back, go on with my life. How bad could it be? The guy who owned this place was a shit – how different could his family be? But then I saw you…”

He looks up at her now and she…she looks at him. Their eyes meet and they lock and neither can look away, “That first night, I sang to you, called you to the shore and you just…you looked so…resigned. You looked like you accepted your fate, like…like you wanted to-to _die_. Like you wanted this,” he waves around them, “All of this to end and I just…I couldn’t do that to you. I _couldn’t_.”

His eyes are glittering now, full of emotion and unshed tears, “So I sent you back to bed and decided that that was that. That I was going to let it go.”

“But you didn’t,” it comes from her – not accusing. No. Much worse. It comes low. Hollow.

“I…I had to know,” he breathes, “I had to know why you felt that way. I…had to know you. I wanted to.”

Kelsey gets up, cup in hand. She walks to the sink and pours it out, her back to him. Maybe that makes it easier. Maybe it doesn’t. He just looks at her slim back, her straight spine and waits.

Finally, “Last night.”

Ah, yes. Back to the heart of the matter. Back to what started this shitshow.

“Last night was my chance to get to know you. _Really_ know you. Well…know you more than I already did. Little conversations now and then while I work on this place…it wasn’t enough. Besides, I…liked you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but the idea of a date wasn’t far-fetched. You’re beautiful. Smart. Sweet. If-if things were different…”

“But they’re not.”

“They are,” he insists fervently as he gets to his feet. He doesn’t walk closer to her, but he stands because he can’t just keep sitting there while he tells her the truth, “They can be. I was-I was going to _make_ them be. I was going to tell my uncle to back off. I was going to tell him to take his traditions and shove them up his fin, but then he beat me to it. He knew I didn’t…didn’t do what he wanted, so _he_ called for you. _He_ sang. I knew it when I didn’t find him in his usual hole, so I came and I-I stopped him.”

Kelsey turns now, eyes ablaze, “You kissed me!”

Shane swallows so thickly his Adam’s apple bobs, “I did. I’d…wanted to. Before I said goodnight. Before I left to go confront him. I wanted to, but I knew I had to take care of things with him first. When I found him luring you, I interrupted, and I thought my song might be enough but it…wasn’t. You were torn, you needed more so I…”

He chews the inside of one cheek, looks at her up through his lashes as he ducks his head, “It’s not how I wanted it.”

“What then?”

“The lull of two songs and then my…actions to overcome it, was too much for your system. It would’ve been for any human. You fell into full slumber. I was going to take you back to your place, tuck you in, but then my uncle came for me and that’s…another story. An ugly one.”

“Is he dead?” it’s clear she didn’t even expect to ask the question; but can’t stop herself from it. Honestly, he doesn’t blame her and he shakes his head, “No. But he is gone.”

“Good,” she affirms and then, looking away, she says, “You should too.”

“I should-?”

“Go, Shane,” she closes her eyes and one tear, two, escape, “Go away. Please.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice. He turns and leaves her, and his heart, behind.

+

A fixer upper.

You wouldn’t know it from the outside,

The outside of the cottage sparkles. Fresh and clean and perfect. Inside? Inside it’s still cracked paint and worn floorboards. Kelsey realizes she and the cottage are not that much different from one another. She hasn’t seen Shane in weeks. But then, she asked him to go. And she hasn’t been in town. No, she’s been very much like she was in the beginning.

Isolated. Alone. Sad.

No new words have been added to the story she was working on. Shane asked her about the story that night. Asked her while they ate at the restaurant. And the conversation comes back to her, “It’s about a girl named Kasey. She wants a big family, so she starts having lots and lots of kids.”

“With whom?”

“With anyone,” Kelsey chuckled, “She’s…ah, let’s just say – adventurous.”

“Ooh, scandalous. Love it. Is she you?”

“Me?” the wild giggle that had escaped her echoed throughout the restaurant, “What makes you think she’s me?”

“Similar names, similar wants…”

“What makes you think I want a big family?”

“Eh, you just seem the type.”

“Rude!” she’d cried, but also, also she’d been…pleased. Pleased to have someone peg her so well. So neatly. And his eyes had twinkled with mischief, “If you ever need a starter baby daddy, you just let me know…”

More laughter. More fun. It had been a wonderful night. A wonderful date. Shane had said he’d wanted it to be a date and she was still so, so angry with him. Angry about what he’d tried, what he’d done, angry about who he really was. And she was angry at his uncle, at her own relation who – she discovered – was some fifth cousin or some doohickey and she was just…angry.

Angry and isolated and alone and sad.

And she didn’t want to be.

It took her back to her original dilemma, in a way. The one that led her down this path to begin with. Who does she want to be in this life? What does she want out of it? Happiness. That had been her answer. She’d thought it childish then, but now? Now, she’s not so sure. She looks at the walls around her. The peeling, chipped paint.

She’s struggled to think of a color to paint them, but now she knows. She gets up from her seat and goes outside. She’d purchased a bike when she first came to the island, thinking it a better transport than her car, a good way to get cardio in. She’s never used it.

Until today. Today she mounts the bike and goes into town. She goes straight to the local hardware store and picks up a gallon of paint. Then she goes to the nearby drugstore and gets a box of hair dye. She rounds out her trip at the pet shop and she doesn’t leave alone. Carefully she tucks a tiny puppy into the basket attached to the front so she can keep an eye on him as she rides.

She rides and the air flows all around her, through her, and for the first time since she saw Shane disappear into the waters to reveal his secret, she smiles.

+

The walls glow yellow, her new dog is named Chewie, and her hair? Her hair is…still blonde. She eyes the box and shifts from foot to foot. She’s supposed to be brave now, dammit. Well, technically, she’s supposed to be _happy_. That was the whole point of her recent jaunt into town. She’s decided to embrace herself, her life, her everything. Happiness is what she wants, so it’s what she’ll get.

Happiness is bright, sunny walls and a cuddly creature and getting over your fears. But as she looks in the mirror, she realizes she just…can’t do it. At least not yet. Not today.

“Nothing wrong with that,” she says to herself, “Baby steps.”

Kelsey tucks the box away. She spends time with Chewie, reads, and still no words for her story come. And while she’s certainly happier, she’s not…quite where she wants to be. Sighing, she tugs out her laptop, thinks of trying to write. Instead, she finds herself pulling up the internet.

When Shane first came, when he’d discovered her lack of access, he’d remedied it. At first, it bothered her. She hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t wanted reminders of different lives she’d tried and failed at. But now she finds herself grateful. Grateful as she searches and searches through a variety of fish. She looks and looks and finally finds it.

The spotted sunfish.

That’s what Shane’s scales looked like. She doesn’t know why she looked. Or…maybe she does.

Closing the laptop, she rises and goes outside. She goes to the sandy shoreline. The water is endless and deep. Dark and effervescent. She closes her eyes and breathes out. She doesn’t remember his song, doesn’t remember the words or the music, so all she can do is pray.

Maybe that’s the human’s equivalent of a lure – praying, wishing – casting out a hardline of your thoughts and feelings into the universe. It doesn’t necessarily have to be audible, but for her, it becomes so.

“Shane…if you can hear me…come back…”

The water ripples. Kelsey looks out and sees the surface of the water break, his head peeking up. A sound leaves her, because honestly, truly, she didn’t think…

She walks closer to the water’s edge; he swims towards it. He stops short of emerging, his tail swishing behind him, “I…didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

“I was mad.”

“You had every right to be. I’m sorry, Kelsey.”

She sits down, cold, wet sand beneath her. He shifts and moves until he sits next to her. His legs are still a tail and she looks at it in wonder, “How…? When…?”

“Have to be dry,” he answers even without fully formed questions, “Then they’ll become legs. And only the waters around the island will turn them back, so, no worries about pools or hoses or anything like that.”

“Huh,” is the best she can offer and they sit there, silent, next to one another. They look at the sky and the water but not one another. Talking, for a while, seems like it would be an intrusion on this pure peace. But Kelsey knows she has to speak, “The…the inside could use some work.”

His head whips to her, finally looks at her, just _stares_.

Kelsey can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn’t look at him. Not yet.

“The cottage…like you said. I…I did some painting, but it needs some…some more love.”

One eyebrow quirks up, “Does it?”

Kelsey nudges him, getting his innuendo and rolling her eyes in answer, “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” and this isn’t so much a question as a pleading and now she gives in. She turns her gaze to him and up close like this, her heart can’t help but skip some, “I…I decided I want to be happy.”

“Good,” he says firmly, “You should be. You deserve to be.”

“I…I don’t want to be that girl. The one you first saw…”

He just nods and he edges just that much closer. She allows it, tone soft, “And…I mean, I’m still a-a little upset. I…I can forgive you…will forgive you, I think, but-but I need to-to now you’ll be honest from here on out and…and that you’ll make it up to me…”

“I will,” he swears and he reaches his hands up and it’s clear he wants to touch her, wants to take her face in his hands again like he did that night, but knows better. Knows he needs permission. Her lips quirk at that, appreciates it even as she looks him dead in the eyes and asks, “I have to know…if-if I hadn’t looked sad that night. If-if I’d been…different…would you have done it?”

His breath stops on that. So does hers. For a moment, just a moment, before she presses, “Would you have taken me as…as a tribute?”

Kelsey can’t say sacrifice this time. Can’t ask if he would’ve drowned her, killed her – because she’s honestly afraid of his answer. She wanted him to come back, but she still knew she had to ask this and, despite how she feels, his reply is crucial. It will decide everything.

“Honestly?” his hands lower and he looks at her, truly lost, “I don’t know.”

Kelsey blinks, nods, licks her lips, and gives a near silent, “Okay.”

Shane is stunned. He looks as if she’s hit him hard over the head and it takes him a while to choke out, “Okay?”

Her nod is firmer, “Yeah. Okay.”

“H-how can that be ‘okay’?”

“It’s not,” she affirms but looks oddly pleased, “But it’s the truth. And that’s what I want from you, Shane. Like I said – no more lies. No more deception. Truth hurts. It can be ugly and bad but it’s…it’s what I want. You gave me an honest answer and that-that means, I…I’m willing to try.”

Shane seems to be struggling with that and she just nudges him again, “Come on, it can’t be that much of a shock. Your…y’know, different. A-a…what did you call it? A Mer? I’m sure you all have your own culture and language and-and I can’t just judge you for it based off my own standards. But I _can_ judge you on basic principals that I value – like honesty.”

“But not attempted murder?” he wheezes and she just breathes out, “It didn’t happen. So…I guess there’s that. And as long as we take this slow…and really get to know one another, the _true_ one another…”

Shane shakes his head and looks away from her, looks out over the water as he confesses, “Kelsey…you are a marvel.”

She beams at that and then she lightly taps one of his arms, feels some of the scales beneath her fingertips. They’re…silky. Wet and slick. A little slimy, but not in a bad way and he looks at her again as she murmurs, “Like I said…I want to be happy. And you…you make me happy.”

It’s clear emotion is welling up in him and it’s welling up in her as well, as she edges near him again, “I…I _do_ want to take it slow. But…I also…” her words trail off, freeze, and it’s clear she’s scared to ask, so he gently prods, “Yes?”

“I…want to kiss you. And I want to know it’s not a dream.”

His hands rise again, as they did before but this time she eases into his touch, lets him cup her face in his hands as her rasps, “As my lady wishes…”

Their lips meet and this kiss? This one obliterates the first one they shared. It’s beyond perfect, electric and mind melting and better than any songs could ever be. It’s sheer bliss, utter joy and finally, finally Kelsey feels like she’s right where she belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was initially going to be longer. Much, much longer - 'cause that's how I roll. Still, I like how it came out over all. I might explore more of Siren's Call in the future. Artwork of [Mer!Shane](https://cellard0ors.tumblr.com/post/622011690117185536/art-by-charlieslowartsies) can be found here and here I've posted [a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VdHXjPaNeUooi1Hj3auPc), because I'm that level of nerd.


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